


Tascosa

by julien (julie)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-01-26
Updated: 2000-01-26
Packaged: 2020-12-20 20:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21062789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/julien
Summary: A bounty hunter comes to town looking for Vin, which finally prompts him and Chris to try clearing Vin’s name.





	Tascosa

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** I figured for sure that _The Magnificent Seven_ would give us an episode in which Chris and Vin finally go to Tascosa together to seek justice for Vin. Given they didn’t during the first season, I thought I’d write one myself. In the second season, of course, they gave us the episode _Sins of the Past_, which progressed but didn’t resolve the storyline. And of course, whatever they’ve done, they never seem to include the sex like I do… Oh well! I guess that’s what day dreams and slash fiction are for… 
> 
> **First published:** 26 January 2000 in my zine Westering Boundaries

# Tascosa 

♦

‘Have another one, pard,’ Buck offered, pushing the bottle of whisky along the bar in Chris’s direction. ‘A rough day like today tends to dry a man out…’

‘Nah,’ Chris replied. ‘Got things to take care of before I turn in.’ Apart from which, Vin had been expecting a package of new books to arrive from the east that day, and he’d been willing to let Chris borrow whichever one took his fancy. Such things were precious in the west.

‘What kind of friend are you, leaving me to drink alone?’

A smile twisted Chris’s lips as he swallowed a last nip of the liquor. ‘You’re never alone for long, Buck.’

‘Amen to that!’ The way Buck’s eyes lit up, and the fervor in his tone, meant he was thinking of female companions.

‘J.D.’s just arrived,’ Chris pointed out. ‘The kid’ll drink with you.’ And, hard on J.D.’s heels, a weary-looking stranger covered in trail-dust walked into the saloon. ‘You’d better offer him a drink, too.’

Buck nodded, turning a welcoming expression on the stranger; only Chris and maybe J.D. could read the serious intent behind it. It was always in their interest to know who was in town, and why… ‘Howdy,’ Buck said as the man propped himself on the bar nearby. ‘Let me pour you something to wet your throat.’

‘I’d appreciate it, sir.’

A moment passed while the man made short work of his first nip. Buck poured him another, while Chris slowly pulled his coat on, getting ready to leave. J.D. settled himself beside Buck, watching warily. The stranger appeared harmless enough: his silver hair, comfortably-built stomach and untroubled expression all counted in his favor. But even young J.D. had learned that appearances could deceive.

Once the stranger had put his empty shot-glass down and let out a relieved sigh, he good-naturedly said, ‘Well, I suppose you’re all gonna be asking me what’s my business here.’

Buck refilled the man’s glass, while J.D. made the introductions. ‘I’m J.D. Dunne, the Town Sheriff. These are my friends, Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee.’ The stranger shot a sharp glance of recognition at Chris, who didn’t deign to react. ‘And, yes, we’d like to know your business here. Maybe we can help.’

‘My name’s Edgar Hanson,’ the man announced before swallowing the second nip of whisky. ‘I’m a bounty hunter,’ he said, turning to face J.D. directly.

Chris, who’d only been waiting to hear this before leaving the saloon, felt danger make his heartbeat pause. Not that he showed anything to the world but a lack of concern.

‘I’m after a man wanted for murder in Tascosa, Texas. Name of Vin Tanner.’

Silence, while every man in the saloon exchanged a variety of glances. It seemed they’d all heard this quiet announcement.

At last Chris said, ‘You won’t find him here.’

‘That so?’

‘Yeah, that’s so,’ Buck smoothly confirmed.

Hanson was considering them shrewdly. ‘Mr. Tanner was mentioned in an article in your newspaper a few weeks back. The _Clarion News_… That is your paper, ain’t it?’

‘Yeah, that’s the town’s paper,’ Chris said, figuring no one would dare contradict him, at least not right away, ‘but you’re on the wrong trail. The man in that article, he was using someone else’s name.’

Shrewdness became skepticism. ‘The name of a wanted man?’

‘Maybe he was stupid. Maybe he wanted a reputation he hadn’t earned. Either way, we ran him out of town.’

‘That so?’

‘That’s so,’ J.D. asserted. Of course, the youngster might ruin everything through misplaced enthusiasm…

‘I got business elsewhere,’ Chris said, careless. ‘Night, Buck, J.D..’ He tipped his hat politely. ‘Mr. Hanson. Hope you find what you’re looking for.’

Buck nodded at Chris, those dark eyes of his serious: he’d take care of this for now. ‘Goodnight, pard. Mr. Hanson, let me pour you another whisky. That’s a long ride from – where did you say? Texas?’

Chris strolled out of the saloon, and ambled in the direction of the room that Vin rented.

♦

When Chris quietly pushed open the door to Vin’s room, he saw that Vin was already a few chapters into one of his new books. The man was sitting in a chair by the fire, legs stretched out and ankles crossed, a lamp on the dresser beside him for the sake of light; all of which made for a warm and welcoming picture. Vin hadn’t even noticed he had company.

For a moment, lulled by the feeling of peace he’d just walked into, Chris didn’t disturb his friend – but then the urgency became insistent, and he abruptly said, ‘Pack what you need. I’m taking you to my room.’

Vin didn’t betray any surprise at the intrusion, though his gaze flew to Chris, making the instant assessment any gunman lived or died by. Then, as Vin considered Chris’s words, a smile curled his mouth. ‘Why, Chris,’ he eventually murmured, ‘this is so sudden.’

On the rare occasions Vin flirted with him, Chris always pretended obliviousness; the flirting had recently become a tad half-hearted, anyhow. Betraying nothing but serious intent, Chris announced, ‘There’s a bounty hunter in town looking for you.’

The harsh truth registered immediately: it was as if shutters closed over Vin’s face. The man got up, and quickly began gathering a few items into his saddlebags.

‘Anything here that’d identify you?’

‘Only stuff I’ll bring with me,’ Vin tersely replied. He gathered up the wrapping paper from the books, and a few other papers, and threw them into the fire. Within moments they stood in an anonymous room, its comforts already forgotten. ‘I’m ready.’

Chris nodded, and led the way outside. They left through the rear of the building, and carefully picked their way along the few side streets and alleys, managing to avoid anyone seeing them. Once they were safely in Chris’s room at the boarding house, they didn’t light a lamp: Vin sat in the only chair with his head in his hands, contemplating his own thoughts, and Chris stood by the window, keeping an eye on the main street.

Within a few minutes, J.D. showed up. ‘You’ve got him all right, Mr. Larabee?’ the youngster asked breathlessly, even as his searching gaze found Vin. There was something in J.D. that still enjoyed the adventure, even in deadly situations like this. ‘Buck’s keeping that guy out of harm’s way, but what are we gonna do? God, Mr. Tanner, what a terrible thing to happen.’

Vin lifted his head and sat back, composure unruffled. ‘I been expecting it,’ he said evenly.

‘What are we gonna do?’

Chris left his post by the window. ‘You’re gonna stay here with Vin and _keep quiet_, J.D.. No heroics. There’s something I need to take care of. Then Vin’s riding out of here with me, and you’ve never seen or heard of him. Got it, kid?’

‘Got it,’ J.D. confirmed with a firm nod.

Vin gazed after Chris as he slipped out through the door; and then he returned to his own counsel, remaining impervious to J.D.’s eager questions.

♦

Chris tapped at the bedroom door in Mary’s house, and quietly called, ‘Mrs Travis?’

A long moment passed before she demanded, ‘Who is it?’

Pleased by her ability to completely mask the fear in her voice, Chris smiled and replied, ‘It’s Chris Larabee. I need to talk with you.’

A rustle of footsteps, the door opened, and there she was: a colorful silk robe pulled on over her long white nightdress; beautiful blond hair cascading down around her shoulders; a moderately pissed-off expression on her pretty features; a hairbrush gripped hard in her hand.

‘I’m real sorry to let myself in like this,’ Chris offered before she could accuse him of anything, ‘but this can’t wait till morning.’

She smoothly cut in: ‘You couldn’t knock on my front door and stand in the street?’

‘Need to keep this quiet, Mrs Travis. Can’t afford to let anyone know I’m here.’

‘Well, neither can I, under the circumstances,’ she retorted, arching a brow. But then she relented and said, ‘I told you, you can call me Mary.’

Chris tipped his hat in polite acknowledgment.

‘So, what is it?’

‘There’s trouble arrived for Vin. I should have asked you not to mention his name in the paper; now someone’s come looking for him.’

Mary frowned. ‘Why? What did he do?’

‘Nothing wrong; you should know him well enough by now. He was set up for murder.’

Another long moment passed as Mary considered this, searching Chris’s face and making her own assessment. At last she asked, ‘What do you want me to do?’

He quickly told her about the bounty hunter, and the story Chris’d already started about a man using Vin’s name. ‘I’m asking you to mislead Hanson,’ he concluded, ‘or at least delay him, while I get Vin out of here.’

‘Mr. Tanner’s running away from this?’

‘No, he’s facing it; he’s heading for Tascosa to clear his name.’

‘And you’re going with him?’

Chris nodded.

Mary considered him shrewdly. ‘You must care about Mr. Tanner a great deal.’

‘I owe him my life,’ Chris said, his voice roughening. ‘Now, come downstairs, and lock up once I’m gone.’

‘Yes, of course,’ she lightly responded, ‘and please don’t tell me how easy it was to break in here.’

Once they were on the first floor, they made their way in the dark through the newspaper’s printing press towards the back door. Then Chris tipped his hat to Mary Travis in farewell, and headed out, only hesitating long enough to hear the reassuring clunk of the bolts being slid home.

♦

When Chris returned to his room, he wasn’t surprised to find that J.D.’s dander was up. ‘We should fight this guy,’ the youngster declared. ‘Mr. Tanner, you should challenge him to a gunfight. Or maybe you should, Mr. Larabee.’

Vin was looking weary. ‘I told you, J.D., this is a decent man doing a decent job; he don’t deserve any of us fighting him.’

‘But it’d be like a duel! That’s an honorable way to settle an argument.’

‘Only in dime novels. You’ve been reading the wrong books, J.D..’

Chris said, ‘No one’s gonna fight him, kid.’

And Vin quietly added, ‘I used to _be_ him not so long ago. You give him the respect you’d give me.’

There was a knock at the door, and Buck slipped inside. ‘All right, Vin?’ When Vin nodded, Buck continued, ‘I got Hanson settled into a room at the hotel. But I figure he’s gonna keep asking questions, and maybe by morning he’ll be getting honest answers. Folks are keeping quiet for now, but that’s not gonna last…’

‘Vin,’ Chris said; ‘time to get going.’

Already on his feet, Vin slung his bag over one shoulder and picked up his saddlebags.

‘So that’s it?’ J.D. demanded in outrage. ‘You’re just gonna sneak out of here in the dead of night?’

‘Get Buck to tell you about discretion and valor, kid,’ Chris advised while collecting his own saddlebags. ‘And remember one thing: the townsfolk don’t like us. They need us for now, but once law and order come to stay for good, we’ll be about as welcome as the criminals they pay us to scare off.’

J.D. obviously felt hurt by such a notion. ‘We’ve got _friends_ in this town, Mr. Larabee… Mr. Tanner has friends here!’

Vin paused beside him on the way out. ‘I hope you’re right, J.D., and I hope you’ve made some true friends here. But it wouldn’t be wise to count on it.’ And then he was gone.

♦

They barely spoke at first. As the two men rode out of town, Chris muttered, ‘Guess Hanson’ll be tracking us soon enough.’

‘Last thing he’ll expect,’ Vin responded, ‘is for us to head straight for Tascosa…’

Chris lifted his chin in agreement: then that’s what they’d do. It would be a long ride, with the probability of difficulties and the possibility of distractions, and no doubt Edgar Hanson would be following them all the way.

On the second day, Chris said, ‘You don’t have to do this. You thought about moving on, changing your name…?’

‘Thought about it. But that’s no life. And I can’t quit being a Tanner: I spent all these years trying to live up to the name, I ain’t gonna turn my back on it now.’

‘All right.’ They rode along the dirt trail for a while, winding their way up through the foothills of a mountain range. When it was time to walk the horses, the two men dismounted and strode on side by side, reins in hand even though they could rely on their mounts to stay with them. Chris said, ‘Tell it to me again, from the beginning.’

‘Hardly been thinking about anything else.’ Vin let out a patient sigh. ‘When I was working as a bounty hunter, Old Ely Joe had two hundred dollars on his head for robbing banks in southern Texas. I tracked him up to the panhandle, seemed he was working near Tascosa. One day I got real close; I was chasing him and a couple of his friends through the trees along a river, when I heard gunfire. A few minutes later I ride up to find his body lying in the grass, with his horse standing nearby. I figured his friends decided they’d be better off without him, and without me on their tail. Except when I took the body back to Tascosa, the Sheriff tells me it isn’t Ely. I ended up being charged for murder, and they would have hung me; when I got out of there, they put a five hundred dollar bounty on my head.’

‘He wanted to set you up, get you hung by the law.’

‘Yep.’

‘He wasn’t trying to fake his own death.’

‘Nope. Everyone in Tascosa knew who the dead guy was; a local drover, unlucky enough to look a hell of a lot like Ely.’

‘Is he still wanted for the bank robberies?’

Vin laughed under his breath. ‘Somehow he got the charges dropped down in Austin. There’s an irony to how it all worked out.’

The trail took them past a stream; the two men let their horses drink, and filled their water flasks. Into the quiet, Chris suggested, ‘Maybe he’s still there.’

‘Why’d you say that?’

‘Sounds like he went to a lot of trouble to get rid of you. This is a big country, there’s a lot of places a man can hide, if he’s willing to change his name and start fresh.’ Chris turned his sharp eyes on Vin. ‘_I_ know you could have tracked him from here to Quebec and back again, but did Ely Joe know that? He didn’t even try to move on.’

Vin hunkered down by the stream, and considered this. ‘Could be right,’ he eventually said. And the two of them fell silent again, contemplating the complications that Ely Joe might create.

♦

‘I’m grateful for your company,’ Vin said one evening as they sat beside their campfire.

Eventually Chris replied, ‘Didn’t have anything better to do.’

Vin considered the man with amusement. ‘Nevertheless, I _am_ grateful.’

Chris just shrugged.

Quietly, so that Chris could pretend not to hear if he chose, Vin murmured, ‘Could be dangerous, leaving me to speculate about your motives.’

The comment was ignored. Instead Chris just said repressively, ‘I’ll take first watch.’

♦

‘You hear that?’ Vin asked as they rode along a few days later.

‘Yeah.’

‘He’s been behind us most of the afternoon, biding his time.’

‘Probably Edgar Hanson,’ Chris agreed. The plains of eastern New Mexico stretched around them, flat as a pancake though covered with enough scrub and cacti to provide plenty of cover. ‘Wanna surprise him?’

‘Well, I don’t figure we should let him get the drop on us.’

Chris nodded, met Vin’s bright gaze, and the two men silently agreed on a plan… Then Chris grabbed his rifle, and they each slid off their mounts, encouraging the horses to continue walking with a slap to their rears. Taking cover on either side of the trail, Chris and Vin waited for Hanson.

The man approached carefully, no doubt having heard the horses finally slowing down to a halt a few hundred yards on. Not carefully enough, though – once Hanson was within fifteen feet of them, Vin cried out, ‘Stop where you are!’ and he stepped into view with his gun aimed directly at the bounty hunter’s heart.

Hanson reined in his horse, and lifted his hands in surrender. ‘Mr. Tanner, I presume.’

‘Glad to finally meet you, Mr. Hanson,’ Vin urbanely replied. ‘I believe you’ve already met my friend Chris Larabee.’ On cue, Chris materialized to Hanson’s left, his rifle steady against his shoulder, ready for action.

‘Yes, I have. You’re a smooth liar, Mr. Larabee.’

‘All in a good cause,’ Chris said, his rough voice betraying not an ounce of remorse.

‘Protecting a murderer?’

‘I didn’t murder anyone, Mr. Hanson,’ Vin declared. ‘I’m going to Tascosa now to prove as much and clear my name. We’re not interested in hurting you, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t get in my way.’

‘You’re asking me to let you go? You were a bounty hunter once, Mr. Tanner, you know how this works. I can’t do that.’

‘Sure you can. You’ve been tracking us – and ever since you found me in Arizona, I’ve been heading directly to Tascosa, right? Why would I do that if I was guilty?’

Hanson shrugged, but the expression on his comfortably lined face indicated that Vin had a point.

‘I’ll meet you there in a week,’ Vin promised.

‘It won’t take you that long to get there, the rate you’re going.’

‘Need a day or two to check the lie of the land… Need to work out who _did_ kill that gentleman before I risk a hanging I didn’t earn.’

‘I’m gonna take you in, Mr. Tanner. You’ll have your day in court, you can say whatever you like in your defense then.’

Vin snorted. ‘Pardon me, Mr. Hanson, but it ain’t your funeral.’

‘It’s gonna be my bounty, though,’ the man declared.

A moment stretched in which Vin fixed his bright gaze on the man, as direct as the unwavering gun-barrels aimed at him. Finally he asked, ‘Which do you love more, justice or money?’

Another shrug, though for the first time the portly man seemed uncomfortable. ‘They’re offering five hundred dollars for a gunman gone bad: I don’t reckon I’ll lose any sleep at night.’

Very softly, Vin said, ‘I ain’t gone bad, Mr. Hanson.’

‘That’s not for me to say.’

Vin’s expression turned flinty. ‘Well, if I can’t appeal to your sense of justice, then maybe a threat’ll suffice. There’s two of us, and if you kill one, the other’s gonna get you. I can promise you that. That money ain’t worth your life, Mr. Hanson.’

After a pause for consideration, Hanson gruffly acknowledged, ‘Guess not.’

‘I’ll tell you where Jimmy Taylor is, back in Arizona,’ Vin offered; ‘you go collect the bounty on his head, that’s two hundred fifty. Leave us be.’

A reluctant nod, and soon thereafter their business was done.

♦

‘I found him,’ Chris announced as he rode up. ‘Found his ranch, anyway.’

Vin smiled up at his friend. They’d agreed Vin shouldn’t show his face around Tascosa until they were ready to make their move; therefore Chris had done most of the investigating so far while Vin remained at their camp. ‘He’s settled into ranching?’

‘Got quite a spread from what I heard.’

‘Well, I’m guessing it ain’t quite legitimate… Ely Joe’s too old a dog to be learning new tricks.’

Vin was proved right that night. Once darkness had fallen, he and Chris rode to the boundary of Ely’s ranch, left their horses by a watering hole, then warily approached the main house, barns and corrals on foot. Despite the late hour, there was plenty of activity being conducted in the light of three large fires: cattle were being branded.

‘Rustling,’ Vin concluded, as they drew close enough to see that the new brands were being applied over existing ones. ‘What I want to know is, how’s he gettin’ away with it on such a large scale?’

‘Friends in the right places.’

‘Maybe. But there’s a lot of respectable ranchers here, powerful men like Mifflin Kenedy; they wouldn’t welcome this kind of operation.’

Chris shrugged, and they began making their way back to where they’d left their horses. To help cover their tracks, they detoured through a herd of untended cattle.

‘Look at this,’ Vin said: ‘the brand’s D8. Bet it used to be US.’

‘Don’t have much imagination,’ Chris commented. ‘That’s a ruse so old it’s virtually proof of rustling.’

‘So how does he get away with stealing cattle from the US Army…?’

‘Guess we’ll find out soon enough.’ And they headed back to their camp.

♦

He’d run once before. Vin still wasn’t sure, if it all went wrong, whether he’d face the consequences or he’d run again. He wasn’t the martyr type, but life on the lam, always watching his back, never trusting anyone, never telling anyone his name; none of that appealed to him. He wanted to live, but maybe he didn’t want to live like that.

It was their last night before they headed into Tascosa and faced the consequences of Vin returning to this place. Neither man spoke much; they just sat by their campfire, and stared at the flames…

Eventually Vin broke the silence. ‘It’s hard,’ he murmured. ‘This is the hardest part.’

Chris looked at him with those sharp eyes, his handsome face betraying a hint of unrest.

‘In the middle of a gunfight, there’s no time to ponder dying. It’s harder this way. Too much time to think.’

The stars were bright above them, bright and cold and distant. The fire, even though insignificant by comparison, at least provided warmth and the illusion of a place where Vin and Chris belonged for these few hours.

‘Time,’ Vin continued, ‘to remember all the things you wanted to do and didn’t.’

‘Like what?’ Chris asked in that rough voice of his.

Vin turned to his friend, wanting only some kind of acknowledgment, intending to put it all into words that for once Chris couldn’t ignore. But just the sight of Chris sitting there in the firelight – Chris, who’d insisted on coming to Tascosa with him, Chris Larabee, so beautiful and so broken that he’d immediately invaded Vin’s dreams, Chris himself, Chris – urged Vin to action. ‘Ah hell,’ he muttered: ‘I’d rather regret something I did, than something I didn’t do, any day of the week…’ And Vin shifted forward onto his knees, and he leant in close, one hand on the man’s thigh for the sake of balance, and he pressed a kiss to Chris Larabee’s mouth.

A still moment. The night itself paused. Vin felt a chasm of sorrow opening up inside of him.

But then Chris’s lips moved under his, tentatively at first, and Vin edged closer still, and then they were kissing as if Chris’s passion had been thwarted for even longer than Vin’s… Dazed by this unexpected response, Vin was barely aware of being gathered up; his whole world became nothing more and nothing less than this fleshy provocation, this silent and thoroughly involving conversation. When Vin finally broke away from the kiss, he found himself kneeling between Chris’s thighs, with the man’s arms wound tightly around his waist.

‘My God, Chris…’ Vin murmured.

Chris was gazing at him, and those sharp eyes were fierce now. ‘You’re not gonna die here, Vin.’

Surprised, Vin felt a laugh escape him. ‘But you let me kiss you anyhow.’

‘Guess I did.’ And the fierceness fell away, and Chris was blessing Vin with one of his rare mischievous smiles.

Vin couldn’t help but kiss the man again, driven by need and joy and despair all combined, and the best thing was that Chris matched him and even bettered him every step of the way. The stars observed them, remote and unjudging; the heat of the fire at Vin’s back only incited him further; the strength of Chris’s thighs gripping him was unbearably stirring.

There came a moment in which these maddened kisses were no longer enough. Vin almost asked ‘Will you let me do this as well…?’ but he realized that words weren’t necessary. Instead he drew away, and, without avoiding Chris’s gaze, Vin shook out his bedroll so it lay along the even ground close to the fire. Then he took Chris’s hand in his and tugged at it; and the man followed Vin down to lie on the bedroll with him, easily and shamelessly and sinuously moving with Vin as if for this little while they were two made into one.

And then even this heated tumbling embrace no longer answered Vin’s hunger, and Chris himself seemed to be demanding more, no doubt frustrated by the clothes they couldn’t afford to discard. Vin knew what was required. ‘I need it tonight, Chris,’ Vin said hoarsely. ‘I need it all.’ Hoping Chris would take his meaning. ‘Need to lose everything.’ And he dragged one of Chris’s hands down to his rear.

Chris’s eyes were dark with desire; Vin had hardly dared to imagine such beauty. ‘You sure?’ Chris asked.

‘Yeah.’ In an effort to reassure the man, to give him full permission, Vin murmured, ‘I’m no blushing virgin, sorry.’

A spark of the fierceness returned: ‘You don’t ever need to apologize for anything you are.’

‘Don’t…’ Vin groaned in despair. ‘Couldn’t bear to fall in love with you. Not now.’

They fell to grappling with each other, dealing with the barrier of clothes, mouths hungrily kissing or gnawing at any flesh within reach. Then Chris wrestled him into place – not that Vin was resisting – facedown on the bedroll, and the first nudge of Chris’s manhood against his bare skin was almost enough to finish Vin…

‘God, Chris,’ he muttered. ‘Get on with it.’ And at last Vin was being filled, he was no longer alone, and they fit together as perfectly as if this union made them both whole. ‘God, Chris…’ Caught between the unforgiving ground and his friend’s fervor. Chris’s thrusts were hard, exactly what Vin needed. Their hands met on either side of Vin’s shoulders, Chris’s hands encompassing Vin’s, their fingers interlacing and then grasping. The fury of it, and the friction, was finally enough: pleasure pulsed through Vin, a pleasure so intense that it was almost nothing more than relief, the pulses becoming body-long throbs as he lay there willingly trapped between his lover’s weight and the earth’s pressure. Chris followed him with a cry, one last long surge possessing him before the tension finally drained away.

Afterwards it was as if a tornado had passed, and they’d been left thrown to the ground in its wake. Chris had fallen to one side, bringing Vin with him so they remained clutched up close together. The two men stared into the flames of the campfire, watching them consume the wood. When thoughts and words returned to Vin, amazement came with them. ‘You knew about me,’ he said, stating the obvious.

‘Couldn’t hardly miss it,’ Chris drawled.

‘But I didn’t know about you.’

‘Nothing to know, until tonight.’

‘It’s new to you?’ Vin twisted around far enough to see the man. ‘Then why did you do it?’

Chris shrugged, and said, ‘Because I could,’ which pretty much left Vin free to speculate on his reasons.

A silence passed between them, comfortable enough. Then Vin murmured, ‘I appreciate it,’ and Chris at last drew away and went to his own bedroll. To his surprise, Vin slept soundly that night.

♦

The next morning, Vin walked into the County Sheriff’s office with Chris Larabee at his side. ‘I’m Vin Tanner,’ he said by way of introduction.

The Sheriff stared at him for a moment before recognition dawned. Suspicion followed closely behind. ‘Vin Tanner?’ He stood from his desk, and stepped to a patch on the wall tacked full of wanted posters; finding the one he wanted, dusty and half covered by more recent notices, he snagged it and brought it over to the two men. ‘I remember when you were arrested, I was a Deputy back then.’

‘I remember that, too.’

‘Name’s Ganty, John Ganty.’ The Sheriff glanced at the drawing on the poster, confirming Vin’s identity, and then he looked up at Chris. ‘Mister, you just made yourself a rich man.’

Chris shook his head. ‘Vin came here of his own accord. Better give _him_ the reward.’

The suspicion deepened. ‘What you want to do that for, when we’re just gonna hang you for murder?’

A faint smile twisted Vin’s lips. ‘Appreciate a trial first. I’m innocent; want to clear my name.’

‘Huh,’ Sheriff Ganty said, apparently buffaloed by Vin’s strange way of doing things. ‘Well, come along,’ he said, reaching for his keys, ‘I’ll put you up in one of the cells.’

‘I can post bail,’ Vin said, staying where he was.

‘Ain’t for no one but the Judge to decide bail in a murder case, and Judge Pearce ain’t due in town for a week.’

‘Vin came here, didn’t he?’ Chris demanded. ‘That proves his good faith. He’s not going anywhere until this is over.’

The Sheriff remained obdurate. ‘Mr. Tanner can show his good faith by walking into that cell over there, thank you.’

Vin shrugged, and did as he was asked.

Chris watched as Ganty took Vin’s knife and gun-belt, locked him in the cell, then hung the keys near the office’s gun-rack. Once the Sheriff returned to his desk, Chris waited until he had the man’s full attention, and then murmured, ‘Vin gets hurt while he’s here, I’ll kill you.’

Ganty considered him with a hint of stone in his eyes. ‘What’s your interest in this if it ain’t the reward?’

‘Vin Tanner is a friend of mine,’ Chris replied, his voice low and deadly. ‘I got a lot of vices, I’m bad traits from start to finish. But I have one virtue and that’s loyalty to my friends. He gets hurt, I’ll kill you.’

A moment stretched in which the Sheriff made a decent stab at out-stubborning Chris.

Vin said, deliberately casual, ‘Chris, it’ll be all right.’

‘I’ll see you tonight, Vin.’

Ganty said, ‘We don’t have visiting hours.’

‘You do now,’ Chris announced as he walked out.

♦

When Chris returned to the Sheriff’s office that evening, he found Vin sitting on the cot in his cell, with one hand resting outside the bars as if to remind himself of freedom. Without acknowledging Sheriff Ganty or the Deputy with him, Chris headed for his friend. ‘I brought you some food,’ he murmured, slipping a bag through the bars.

Vin peered inside to examine the fresh bread and fruit. ‘Thanks,’ he said, setting it aside. ‘That’ll be welcome.’

‘Hey!’ Ganty cried, striding over to them. ‘You let me check stuff before you go giving it to him.’

‘Sure,’ Vin murmured easily, handing the bag out to him.

When Ganty left them alone again, Chris continued, ‘Found you a lawyer, paid him a retainer. Name’s Art Sieber.’

At that information, Vin’s bright gaze sought Chris’s. ‘Any good?’

‘Has to be: there’s only two law firms in town, and the other lot are doing the prosecuting.’

Vin grimaced, then couldn’t help but grin: ‘Guess you picked the right one, then.’

Chris remained serious. ‘Met the Town Marshall, too; man named Cain. He’s all right, but he’s young. Even younger than J.D. if that’s possible.’ He eased down to sit on the floor with his back to the wall, so that he was side by side with Vin. There was only the bars and a few inches of air between them.

‘You don’t have to stay,’ Vin told him.

‘Nothing else to do.’ They sat there together in silence for an hour or so, until the Sheriff appeared to begin nerving himself up to tell Chris to move on. Before he could do so, Chris rose to his feet and said, ‘See you tomorrow.’ And, as he moved, he surreptitiously grazed Vin’s hand with his knuckles.

The touch was so light that Vin almost ascribed it to a hopeful imagination. But there was something in Chris’s eyes that promised it was the truth. ‘No, don’t…’ Vin whispered, his despair echoing back to what he’d said the previous night. _Couldn’t bear to fall in love with you._

‘Tomorrow,’ Chris repeated, with a courteous farewell nod. And he was gone.

♦

The bounty hunter Edgar Hanson showed up at the Sheriff’s office the next day; he seemed unsurprised to discover that Vin had turned himself in, and that Chris was sitting there keeping him company. For some reason, though, Hanson’s previously untroubled expression had become saddened and weary. He introduced himself to the Deputy sitting at Ganty’s desk, and then walked over to Vin and Chris.

‘Told you I’d meet you here, Mr. Hanson,’ Vin said. ‘You’re a day late.’

‘I’ve been doing some investigating of my own,’ the bounty hunter responded. He hunkered down on the floor so that he could talk with them in confidence. ‘That man they say you killed, Mr. Tanner.’

‘What about him?’

‘He went missing the day before you found his body; no one reported it because he often took off on his own. But he was seen in the company of two men, one of them matching your general description and using your name.’

Vin shook his head. ‘Wasn’t me. I only ever worked alone back then.’

Hanson sighed. ‘That’s as far as the official investigation went before you skipped town. People here figured that was enough to hang you, they didn’t look any further.’

‘So what did you uncover?’ Chris asked.

‘Those two men: their descriptions match two of the ranch-hands who work for Ely Joe now, right down to the pinto one of them used to ride. And one of them does bear a resemblance to you – enough to be convenient, anyhow.’

Leaning forward, Vin summarized, ‘So they kidnap this poor guy, leaving the impression I took him, then they kill him while I’m on Ely’s trail, framing me for murder.’

‘Seems about the size of it,’ Hanson said with a sigh.

A moment passed as they all contemplated the situation. And then Chris asked Hanson, ‘Why are you doing this? What changed your mind?’

Hanson stared at each of them in turn, and then commented inconsequentially, ‘There’s no creature I despise more than a lawman gone bad.’

Frowning, Vin murmured, ‘I never was a lawman, and I ain’t gone bad, Mr. Hanson.’

‘You were a bounty hunter: that’s as close to the law as you can get without wearing a badge. And like everyone else I figured you’d murdered that man for the two hundred dollar reward. I rode a long way to arrest you – and when I got there, I find that your associates are hardly the kind to recommend you.’

‘Beg your pardon?’ Vin asked ominously, always ready to defend his friends.

But Chris shook his head, indicating that Vin needn’t argue that one. A silence stretched before Chris finally confessed, ‘I was a lawman once, and I went bad.’

This was news to Vin; none of them, with the exception of Buck, knew much about Chris’s past. But Vin turned to Hanson and said, ‘He ain’t bad no more. Whatever he did, he’s redeemed by now.’

Hanson shrugged this off: ‘That’s as maybe. But you’ve been behaving like an innocent man, Mr. Tanner – and contrary to what you might think, I do love justice – so I figured I’d try to look at what happened back then.’

‘And I appreciate it,’ Vin said, his sincerity only slightly tinged by a lingering resentment on Chris’s behalf.

Hanson took his leave, but it seemed that Chris intended to stay. As the man settled back against the wall, Vin said, ‘I don’t expect you to be here all the time.’

‘I know.’ Chris tilted his head closer to whisper, ‘But the more I think about it, the more I don’t trust Ganty. Ely Joe’s got a serious rustlin’ business going there –’

Vin nodded. ‘And Ganty’s the County Sheriff, it’s his jurisdiction.’

‘So why isn’t he doing anything about it?’

They both had their suspicions about the answer, but the topic was a dangerous one to be discussing under Ganty’s roof. Instead, after a while, Vin asked, ‘You were a lawman?’

‘Yeah.’ Chris let out a sigh, unused to talking about such matters. ‘I was once, along with Buck. Took up ranching instead when I married. Then, afterwards…’ A pause conveyed that bit of history: after Chris’s wife and son were killed. ‘Afterwards, that was when I went bad. Became a gunslinger. Long time since anyone called me on it, like Hanson just did. Well, except for Mary Travis, of course.’

Vin stared at his friend. ‘Meant what I said,’ he offered. ‘You’ve done a lot of good since we met.’ In fact, Vin reflected, he should have guessed about this: Chris’s every instinct had always been that of a lawman. He’d never once shirked his duty, or fought for anything but what was right and true.

Chris fell silent again after that, and Vin was left to his own disconcerted reflections. It would be unutterably bad timing if his flirtatious attraction to Chris now turned into something closer to love. Especially when he knew next to nothing of Chris’s inclinations. Because the way Vin saw it, while there were three possible outcomes of this brush with the law, only two were really likely to eventuate. Vin didn’t think he’d be found not guilty, not if he’d gotten in the way of some powerful men here. Which left him facing the consequences and being hung, or running and living anonymously. And he couldn’t ask Chris to run with him, even though Vin was beginning to suspect he didn’t really want to live without the man…

Letting out a sigh, Vin reached the conclusion that he was sure of only a couple of facts: life was best lived simply, straightforwardly; and things were too darned complicated for him right now.

♦

After Chris had spent half the morning searching through the town of Tascosa and its immediate surrounds, he finally found his friend’s young lawyer at a waterhole two miles distant. The man was indulging in some fishing. ‘Mr. Sieber,’ Chris greeted him.

‘Ah, Mr. Larabee,’ Sieber contentedly responded, stretching his limbs in the sunlight. ‘What a pleasure to see you again.’

Chris cast a glance at the idyllic surrounds. ‘Good day for fishing.’

‘Isn’t it?’ was the rhetorical reply. Sieber gazed up at the perfectly blue sky with immense satisfaction. ‘Must have been like this in the Garden of Eden.’

‘Didn’t have lawyers back then.’

Sieber chuckled. ‘True, sir, very true. Though Adam and Eve might not have ended up banished if they’d been properly represented…’

‘Depends,’ Chris said in harder tones. ‘Depends how often their lawyer went fishing, I suppose.’ When he saw he’d gotten Sieber’s attention, Chris continued, ‘If you don’t pack up now and come back to town to work on Vin Tanner’s case, Mr. Sieber, the Sheriff will have an actual murderer to try arresting this afternoon.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man muttered, unnerved. He stood, and began shakily reeling in his line. ‘I hope, sir, if things don’t turn out well – I mean, if the verdict isn’t exactly what you want, sir – I hope you’ll know we all did our best.’

‘Depends,’ Chris repeated. ‘Don’t look like you’re doing your best right now.’

‘I’ve been gathering precedents,’ Sieber protested while he packed his gear, ‘I’ve been talking to witnesses. Mr. Hanson came and told me some stuff, he said you’d sent him. I’ve been helping him look into matters, and planning strategy. I’m doing all I can!’

‘Good.’ And once the man was mounted, Chris rode close behind him all the way back into town. He didn’t have a high opinion of Sieber, but unfortunately Vin was stuck with him. It wasn’t clear whether the lawyer was simply incompetent or if he was on Ely Joe’s payroll, too, but Chris figured it didn’t make much difference one way or the other.

‘Mr. Larabee, sir,’ Sieber ventured once they were halted outside the law offices. ‘It’ll be a tough case to win; you know that, don’t you, sir?’

‘Yep. But I have faith in you, Sieber.’ Chris smiled at the man – not entirely pleasantly – and rode off, figuring he’d done what he could to encourage Sieber back to work. After all, Chris had plans in case the Judge handed down the wrong verdict…

♦

‘Missed you today,’ Vin murmured as Chris strode up to the bars and stood there looking down at him.

‘Just spent a couple of hours with Hanson and Sieber.’ Chris sighed. ‘I should represent you myself. I’ve presented enough cases, seen enough defense lawyer tricks; I know how it works.’

‘Fine by me. Let’s do without Sieber.’

Chris’s sharp eyes caught on something in Vin’s face. He beckoned Vin closer, and at the same time sank to sit cross-legged on the wooden floor.

Vin stayed there on the cot for a moment, watching his friend move. ‘Always did like those long legs of yours,’ he commented. But once Chris was settled, Vin shifted to sit opposite him, with nothing but the bars between them.

‘If all else fails,’ Chris quietly promised, ‘I’m gettin’ you out of here.’

That prompted a wry smile. ‘The ex-lawman gonna stage a jailbreak?’

‘Whatever it takes. The Judge’ll be in town tomorrow, things’ll start happening.’

Vin nodded, apparently not very interested.

Hearing another of the Deputies walk in, Chris glanced around the Sheriff’s office, and then back at Vin. ‘Don’t know why they let us get away with this. When I was doing this job, _I_ never let any low-life like me have the run of the place.’

‘Maybe they just don’t care.’

Chris eyed his friend. ‘Be better if _you_ did.’

A silence stretched. Vin dropped his gaze; and, for perhaps the first time since Chris met the man, Vin let his shoulders sag. ‘Not used to feeling confused,’ he eventually confessed. ‘Don’t exactly enjoy it.’

‘Confused about what?’

‘This,’ Vin said, indicating the jail cell and the Sheriff with a tilt of his head. ‘You.’

‘What about me?’ Chris’s persistence won him a bright look from those eyes.

‘Really want to talk this through?’ But the question must have been rhetorical, for Vin soon continued, ‘Don’t know how I feel. What I want.’

‘When you figure it out, I’ll be here. Always have been.’

Vin stared at the man, undone by this steadfast, generous offer. ‘So why’d you ignore me for so long?’

‘Guess I was waiting for you to mean it.’

And Vin’s expression immediately reflected a newfound certainty.

Chris smiled, one of his rare secret smiles. ‘That was fast.’ Then he persisted: ‘So, what’s the confusion about your arrest?’

Though Vin felt chagrined, he sat taller. ‘Guess I figured if we can’t prove I’m innocent, they’re gonna hang me sooner or later.’

‘May as well be later.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, all right.’ After a while, Vin’s attention turned outwards to focus on Chris. ‘Anyhow,’ he commented, ‘_you_ can’t talk. Give me your hands,’ he demanded.

Chris glanced around as yet another Deputy entered the office: that was all three of them now, hulking around Ganty’s desk with the Sheriff. Must be their weekly gathering, or else something was going on. There was a slight air of edginess, but that might only have been due to Chris’s conspiratorial huddle with their prisoner.

When Chris finally held his hands out, Vin reached through the bars and deftly unbuttoned his shirt-cuffs. Before Chris could pull away in surprise, Vin traced light fingers along the scars crisscrossing the flesh of Chris’s wrists. ‘What’s all this?’ Vin murmured, a challenge in his bright gaze.

Considering his friend with a glint of sharp humor, Chris commented, ‘If I’d wanted to rid the world of my woes, I would have just done it.’

‘But so many scars, Chris, in such a place.’

‘This one,’ Chris explained, indicating a cut down the inside of his left forearm, ‘was when I had to fake Buck’s death in Purgatorio – needed some blood so it’d look like he’d been shot. This one: my best horse got caught up in some wire fencing; she panicked, I had to get her out. These,’ he said, pointing in turn to ragged bands on each wrist, ‘was when I forced those manacles off when the damned Ghosts of the Confederacy were holding us. _This_ was when I had to escape through a broken window… This was from a knife fight with Tad Grubermeyer.’

There were more scars, but a silence settled and stretched between them. Eventually, Vin murmured, ‘No more of this. Unless there’s honestly no other choice.’

Chris nodded, though his gaze had fallen elsewhere. ‘Feel better if you were armed,’ he muttered, not entirely inconsequentially. ‘There’s a knife tucked into my left boot. If they’re not watching, take it.’

‘Can’t tell if they’re watching: they’re sure nervy about something.’ Nevertheless, Vin slid nimble fingers past Chris’s ankle and under the cloth of his trousers; he quickly slipped the knife free.

Though keeping his distance, a Deputy chose that moment to wander round to a better vantage point – maybe the blade caught the light – and he cried, ‘Prisoner’s got a gun!’

Chris spun round, crouched in front of Vin to protect him, drawing his pistol –

There were four men facing them, all drawing –

‘Son of a bitch!’ Ganty cried defiantly –

‘Get to cover, Chris,’ Vin insisted.

‘You first,’ Chris coolly replied.

– and the Sheriff fired.

Returning fire, Chris hit one of the Deputies in the right shoulder, disabling him – but Chris’s scalp was grazed, and blood trickled into his eyes.

More bullets were exchanged. Chris’s knife flew from Vin’s hand, lodged itself in Ganty’s thigh. Then Vin was reaching through the bars, trying to drag a chair towards Chris for what shelter it was worth.

‘Hey! What’s this?’ Edgar Hanson burst into the fight with a shout, looming in the open doorway. The bounty hunter took out Ganty with his first shot – but then a Deputy turned on him, and Hanson fell to his knees, blood staining his shirt.

Chris downed the Deputy who’d got Hanson. It was Chris’s last shot, but the one uninjured man mustn’t have realized that, for he slowly raised his hands in surrender.

Quiet descended. Smoke slowly curled in the lamplight.

‘Drop your weapon!’ Chris demanded of the last Deputy.

When the man let his gun fall, Chris stood and walked closer. Kicking the guns out of reach along the floor, he grabbed the keys and tossed them to Vin. One of the fallen Deputies was moaning, but Chris ignored him – he headed for Hanson, and tried to staunch the man’s wounds.

‘No good,’ Hanson muttered. ‘I’m done for.’

Chris met his gaze with bluntness and compassion. Vin knelt by him, grasped his hand, and softly declared, ‘You’re a man who truly loves justice, Mr. Hanson.’ Which proved to be his epitaph.

‘Town Marshall will be here soon,’ Chris announced, standing over the body of a man who’d died helping him protect Vin. Chris turned hard eyes on the Deputy, blood still welling from his own wound. ‘Wanna tell me what happened here?’

‘I don’t know, I swear I don’t.’

‘Come on, boy, you can do better than that. You all picked a fight with us for a reason.’

‘All I know, all I know is, Sheriff Ganty, he said we couldn’t afford to let this go to court. I don’t know why, I swear.’

Vin cocked a brow, exchanged a glance with Chris: they must have been right, and Ganty was implicated in Ely Joe’s rustling business. Vin went to deal with the Deputy who was still groaning, just as footsteps ran up outside.

‘You in there!’ The Marshall was wisely keeping a wary distance. ‘Come out with your hands up.’

Chris stepped to the door, hands held out empty. ‘Marshall Cain, it’s all over. You’d better come on in…’

♦

‘I never had the jurisdiction,’ Cain was explaining three days later, ‘and they scared everyone into keeping quiet. But now, with Ely Joe and his men behind bars, and the Judge staying in town for a while, Tascosa is gonna get real peaceful.’

‘That’s good,’ said Vin. He and Chris were packed up and ready to ride out. It was a beautiful day: the sky was blue, the breeze was soft, the horses were eager, Chris was smiling; justice had triumphed.

‘I wanted to thank you gentlemen for helping us clear this up. You took one hell of a risk.’

‘No need to thank us.’ Vin shook the man’s hand, then swung himself up onto his horse. For an indulgent moment he watched Chris’s long legs as he also mounted, and then Vin tipped his hat to the Marshall in farewell. His horse, attuned to her rider after all these years, started walking. ‘Long way back,’ Vin commented, not quite looking at Chris as the man trotted his horse up beside Vin’s.

‘Lot could happen,’ Chris agreed, a glint in his eyes belying the cautious tone.

Vin smiled. ‘Hope so.’

♦


End file.
